The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions
by EternallyElvish
Summary: "He was no stranger to darkness, and now he wasn't in it alone. She was there." Separated from the rest of the group, Daryl can't help but notice Beth's transformation from weakling to warrior. He also can't help but like it, just a bit. Unabashedly but eventual Bethyl. Mostly canon but slight AU. M for language and adult content.


_**Hello Readers! This is my first attempt at writing a bit of Bethyl. As the 4**__**th**__** season went along I slowly fell in love with the idea of them as a couple. They have the potential to balance each other out well in this apocalypse that Robert Kirkman has created. Please drop me a review, I would love hearing from you! Feedback is what inspires a writer and there may be more Bethyl coming your way, if your willing to take some time out of your day and leave your thoughts in the pretty box below ;) Especially since now we've got such a long wait to stir over more eventual Bethyl possibilities in season 5!**_

_**My playlist for this is – **_

_**Empire by Shakira**_

_**Bitter and Sick by One Two**_

_**Warning rated M for: strong language, violence, and slight sexual content**_

* * *

When Daryl first met Beth Greene he wrote her off immediately. It was a passive introduction on her father, Hershel's part, and Daryl had more pressing things on his mind than thoughts concerning a farmer's daughter.

When the walkers in the barn were shot down and she had been the first one to run to the fallen bodies, he thought she was stupid. Getting that close was dangerous. They weren't people anymore.

When he'd heard from Carol that the girl had tried to kill herself, he thought she was weak. She still had her home, both a living sibling and a parent, and food being put on her table for her. She'd won the damn apocalypse jackpot as far as he was concerned.

After that long winter the group had endured following the fall of the farm, Daryl had another name for her. Liability. The blonde had no skills that could aid them besides being able to do laundry. She had no idea how to defend herself in the harsh reality that was now the world. She'd blubbered for weeks about that Patricia and her dead boyfriend, only talking to Grimes' bitch when she was with the rest of the group. "Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?" she asked one day. Fucking stupid, he thought. That baby was none of her concern and it wasn't coming for months, they had to focus on the now if they wanted to keep breathing.

* * *

When they got to the prison he'd all but forgotten that the girl even existed. She kept to her cell writing in some diary or somethin' and only came out to help Hershel or Carol. He was always busy providing either food or defence against the walkers. Didn't have time to notice some little girl.

Then the hardest hit they'd had so far came. Daryl had just seen what was left of T-Dog before heading out to the courtyard and learning of Lori's fate. Rick had gone off the fuckin' deep end and she'd stepped up to the plate. Daryl saw as she practically took on both roles of parent to lil ass kicker.

When the lil mama had taken hold of Judith and refused to let Rick see her as he came back raving and covered in gore, that's when Daryl had first noticed a fire behind those sky blue eyes of hers. In the following weeks when he'd rise from his perch at the ass crack of dawn and hear her still awake, singing soothingly to the baby, he had a new word for her. Protector. The young girl was trying with everything in her power to keep lil ass kicker from suffering as much as the rest of them.

* * *

After they'd let all the Woodbury people in, Daryl snorted at how the younger men seemed to be panting after her like overgrown puppies. She'd indulged that Zack kid, and Daryl was annoyed. How was it that through all of this somebody had time or energy for a damn romance? It made no sense to him at all, especially since Zack was so fucking annoying with his endless questions.

When he had to deliver the news of Zack's death to her and she hadn't cried, he thought of another word. Surprising. She'd blinked up at him owlishly with those baby blues and simply said something he hadn't anticipated at all.

"I don't cry anymore Daryl."

When he'd felt inclined to share his own tiredness of loosing people with her, she'd grabbed him round the middle, hugging tight like a vice. A vice that smelled unexpectedly good. She was a hint of natural vanilla amidst the stenches of the prison and the dead.

When she'd first offered to go on a run for the baby formula, he just about thought he was hallucinating. Rick had asked her if she really thought it was a good idea, and she'd been almost defiant with her response. There was that fire again.

"I wanna help Rick. I deserve to be able to help Judy this way instead of just watching her all the time." And he thought she was right, she did deserve it.

She had that vice grip again while she held onto him as they rode on his bike out of the prison gates. He knew it was her first time out in months and reluctantly acknowledged how nice it felt to have her with him on the run. He felt her chest thrust against his back, so close he could tell how fast her heart was beating.

He'd gone to check the store perimeter while she selected the formula; he heard her scream and had worried. It was her first time out, and he'd been dumb enough to leave her alone for a second. She was half-pinned under a walker when he got there, scrambling for her life against its weight. He'd shot the arrow, immediately killing the walker before going to help her up.

Up close, he noticed how she looked almost angry and heard her mumble, "I should've had that."

He admired that she hadn't been hysterical after such a close brush with death.

The deadly flu hit the prison days later and Daryl thought briefly about her, wondering how pissed she was at having to be quarantined with all the little ones. Things got crazy pretty quickly then with someone murdering Tyreese's girlfriend and the fences starting to give under the heaviness of the walkers.

* * *

When the Governor rained down on them with new reinforcements and held a sword to Hershel's throat, his instinct had been to look at her. She was standing armed like the rest of them, shoulder to shoulder with her sister, and pleading in horror for her father's life. Distraught was the word that came to his mind then.

Hell broke loose as the sword swung to meet its target, and there was a nanosecond of sheer slow-motion fury before shots fired. The group had been vastly unprepared for the attack and they all clambered to survive the oncoming threat.

She had been searching with vehemence for children to put on the bus when he'd run into her. Bodies littered the yard, and the groans of walkers had joined the sharp sounds of gunfire.

"We gotta go Beth, we gotta go."

She ran with him, away from everyone and everything they had come to think of as home. When they first reached the trees, he asked her if she needed to take a break. She glared at him with a blaze behind the look that had him nodding and running once more. There were no words then.

* * *

They found a campsite eventually and before he had to tell her, her knife was out. When walkers stumbled into camp, she was the first of them to move. With her limbs flailing about, she took down the first of the three walkers. He made a quick dispatch of the other two but she remained, hacking the blade into the undead man's face until there was nothing left of it. He thought of another word for her as he watched her kill. Strong. She pulled herself up and sobbed, but his opinion didn't change. This girl – no – this woman was a warrior in her own right. She'd been through the kind of emotional trauma you don't come back from. But she hadn't let her guard down. He respected that.

Later, he'd been frustrated as she went on some suicide mission all in the name of booze. Her sudden need for a buzz hadn't been anticipated, but he hadn't blamed her for it. Hell, he spent half his time wishing the walkers were just some intoxicated nightmare his fucked-up brain had come up with.

They came across a hunting cabin and he was amused as she took her first sip of alcohol. He knew that kind of homemade moonshine packed a punch, and the heat behind her eyes returned as she gulped it down.

She'd gotten him to play some stupid drinking game with her. They started off with small stuff but the more they drank the more earnest the declarations became. He tried to think of what this would've looked like before the apocalypse. This belle of a farmer's daughter, young and sheltered, sitting there with him, a roughed up and much older redneck. He chuckled thinking how the two polar opposites of the south were now drinking buddies. Merle would've laughed his ass off had he still been alive.

In a tipsy haze he smirked at her. He had a good one, guaranteed to make her be the one drinking this round. "I ain't never been to church!" he slurred out almost proudly for his clever thinking.

She narrowed those fiery eyes of hers at him for the cheap shot but drank anyways. Her voice came out raspy as she spoke afterwards, "Daddy used to make us go every Sunday you know. He said that was what good Christians did and that God would reward us for it later." She guffawed humourlessly, "It was all bullshit!"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Thought you believed in all that stuff? Always sayin' grace n' singing church songs n' shit like that."

"That was before my Mamma was shot, and my Daddy was decapitated right in front of me." She laughed dryly.

Her words sobered him up a bit, and his piercing gaze encouraged her to continue. A sob seemed to be caught in her throat but instead her voice came out flat, "I was so stupid before, Daryl. I never wanted to see the truth! God left this place a long time ago."

She stared at him as if she hadn't just said something so utterly unforeseen; the stormy look burned him where he sat staring back at her. Another term for her flashed through him as she levelled his buzz with her words. Broken.

* * *

It had been months since that night at the cabin. They moved up North, and Daryl had taught her how to track as well as defend herself properly. They found some abandoned property that had an underground tornado shelter and had decided to stay there. He thanked whatever higher power was left for survivalists as the shelter was well stocked with imperishable foods and a makeshift mattress just big enough for two.

They had enough to stay there for at least a few weeks as winter had started to set in again; it was colder now they were no longer in Georgia. He guessed they were somewhere in Tennessee or possibly North Carolina. Either way, the prison and their family were far behind them now.

Outside, freezing rain fell down. He could hear the heavy drops of freezing water plunking against the metal doors that opened at the surface of their refuge. Neither of them could do anything but lay painfully awake on the small pile of blankets. It was too wet for him to go hunting and they were restricted to the one room of the shelter if they wanted to stay safe.

Daryl had come to realise that he really cared for her. He no longer looked over her, she wouldn't let him, and the flames dancing behind her honest eyes made sure he couldn't.

He found them looking up at him now, and his mind went blank. She had been lying up against him, her small frame pressed so sinfully against him that his skin prickled. His body reacted without his consent and she'd been able to feel it pressed into her.

She'd wiggled experimentally, and he groaned lowly. Her soft voice cut the tension in the air immediately, and he found he couldn't move. This was bad. He wasn't' supposed to be having this reaction, he was supposed to be protecting her.

But she could protect herself now. She had proved it to him countless times along the road, taking down walkers and no longer relying on the righteous perception that God would allow her to go unscathed as the world they were living in collapsed.

"Want help with that?"

She moved herself slowly, outwardly afraid to spook him, as she raised her body above his. Her sky orbs boring directing into him.

"Please Daryl. Touch me."

Well shit, he thought, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And here he had the devil herself, laying on top of him, appraising him with a look in her eyes that begged for him to further corrupt her. When he didn't move immediately she bit her lip, suddenly unsure and he snapped. He rapidly took in everything about her while grabbing her yellow locks and bringing her mouth forcefully to his.

He was completely engulfed in her. Burning but so alive. His heart roared victoriously against its cage when she slipped her hot tongue past his lips. He flipped them, never breaking the contact, so that she was under him and he could feel every inch of her against him.

This had been building. It occurred to him now that every moment he'd noticed something about this woman writhing beneath him, was this moment here in the making. All along there had been something about her drawing him in, like an insect to an inferno. He may have been a filthy pervert for it, but he didn't much give a damn.

She hadn't been ready for this before; she'd been so many other things, but not quite the right one for who she was to him now. There had been a darkness that had crept its way into her life and changed her.

He was no stranger to darkness, and now he wasn't in it alone. She was there.

This alluring and fragmented girl who'd become a woman with all the innocence of her former life ripped from her. This little thing that had slowly began to spark before igniting.

She was ablaze in his arms, all passion and heat as they collided, again and again.

Against all odds she had made it, against all odds, and with him.

As they came down from their pleasured high, he couldn't help but grip her as tightly as she gripped him. She smiled and he returned it genuinely by pressing a warm kiss to her forehead.

Beth Greene. A single word could describe her. _His_.


End file.
